


between us, just us

by serendipitee



Category: GOT7
Genre: Flash Fic, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-02-01 22:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21337222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipitee/pseuds/serendipitee
Summary: "Hyung, I’ll give youanything.”
Relationships: Park Jinyoung/Mark Tuan
Comments: 11
Kudos: 121





	between us, just us

**Author's Note:**

> i miss writing shorter fic that i could just word-vomit onto the internet so here's a piece of that!!!
> 
> this is Sabeen's fault through and through. you ever have a friend who encourages the wildest most flighty parts of you??? that's sabeen and i love her for it
> 
> title from Run Away

“You’re a bastard,” Mark groans. Jinyoung’s digging his knees into Mark’s hamstrings on purpose, though, so he doesn’t move further than a couple of wiggles before it hurts enough to make him grunt again. “I hate you.”

“Mark.” Jinyoung means to sound more threatening than the tight, caught breaths in his chest can manage like this — he drags his hyung’s name out like a sigh. Jinyoung spends too much time feeling tender toward Mark for it to be convincing, anyway. “You don’t hate me, you just hate losing.”

The stakes aren't that high. They never go far enough for them to be; their clothes almost always stay on, unless they have the time. And either way — whether Jinyoung finds himself spread-eagled and whimpering at Mark's thorough, demanding touch or he gets to be here, like this — they usually both end up feeling like they won.

Mark writhes under him, protesting the capture, and provides a blessed, unbelievable breeze of friction against Jinyoung’s aching dick. “Seriously,” he snarls, rumbling and annoyed as he tries to move again, hands sliding to get underneath him.

Jinyoung traps them tight in his fists, Mark’s pretty, fine-fingered hands pressed down against the rough grain of the locker room rug. He struggles against it for half a second but when Jinyoung squeezes the china-delicate bones of his wrists he exhales in one long, shaky swoop.

“I won,” Jinyoung reminds him. “You know the rules.” Hell, Mark _made_ the rules. It’s not Jinyoung’s fault that he’s been getting better and better at wrestling; it’s not his fault he’s been working out more.

That last part might not be true. The extra workouts just might be encouraged by wanting to win their little backstage game. For this, Jinyoung thinks, he would put on a million extra hours at the gym.

The sweet swell of Mark's ass is a little slice of heaven. Through the layers of their jeans and underthings, Jinyoung can feel his softness, the welcoming give of his flesh. He swings his hips and grinds his throbbing, trapped cock there. Precome smears in his briefs in fat, wet globs, angling for a smooth glide, looking to slick him up.

Mark makes a small, garbled noise like a throaty songbird chirping, muffled into the rug on Jinyoung's next pass. Then, a miniscule adjustment: he tilts his slim hips up, arching the curve of his lower back. Offering.

Jinyoung falls over Mark to accept. He kisses sloppily against the peach fuzz on the back of his neck, mouthing hot nonsense between sucking and licking against the spots that make Mark squirm. He's so, so warm from the exertion of wrestling, from the frustration of losing and from the laser-point concentration of Jinyoung's attention on him. Pink crawls up the back of his neck, crowns the tips of his ears peeking through his hair.

It's inspiring. His strong, sweet hyung laid out. Letting himself be trapped and held down and rubbed against. Jinyoung can't help running his mouth. "God, hyung, you look so good like this. Bet you would feel so good just taking it."

Mark shudders, body tightening under the blanket of Jinyoung's. "Jinyoungie," he whines. He bends further, ass up and face down, and Jinyoung is absolutely lost, rutting into the soaking, chafing material of his underwear, fucking desperately against Mark’s ass like a wild animal, like a dog. The damp friction drags against every inch of his cock, the sparking, electric edge of pain pricking at his core, pulling him closer to the edge.

It's so hard not to picture what this would be like with nothing between them — no clothes, no rush, no game — just the two of them wound into one another, just Jinyoung sliding slicked-up between Mark's pretty thighs or ass cheeks, just skin on skin while Jinyoung fills Mark to bursting, holding each other tight and not having to let go.

Jinyoung’s heart stutters when he realizes he was thinking out loud, whispering frenzied into Mark’s flaming scarlet ear, wrists still wrapped in the shackles of his hands, unable to escape.

But then Mark makes another noise, an almost-sob that squeezes out of him. “Please, please,” he chants, deep voice running thin like melted honey. “Want you to—to fuck me like this. Want to fuck you like this.”

Jinyoung wobbles frantically at the edge while he grinds quick and dirty, moaning as he kisses against Mark's ear. “Yeah? Yeah, _yeah_, hyung, I’ll give you _anything_.”

He means it.

Mark sighs something ragged, turns his head just enough for Jinyoung to see the lovely flush of his cheeks, his swelling, gasping mouth, a sharp canine tooth. "Fuck me like this until you come," he orders, breathless.

Who is Jinyoung to deny him?

**Author's Note:**

> note 2 self: come back and add my twt and cc later ~


End file.
